Stolen Days
by cal40241
Summary: Your days have become hers. Somehow, you're not surprised.


Disclaimer: Gosh, after two entire stories, CBS still hasn't handed over the rights to CSI. I'm shocked. Not mine!

"Some days aren't yours at all.

They come and go as if they're someone else's days"

-Regina Spektor

Some days belong to someone else, and sometimes it's awful, because you never meant to give away your days.

You've always been a little selfish. And you never meant to live for anyone but you. Yet here you are again and again, and she's stealing your days.

But you've discovered you don't really mind. Your days in her hands seem to be what she needs right now, and you figured out that you never really wanted to keep them to yourself anyway.

Everyone thinks you both just drive home after work. No one knows about the thieving game you play each morning.

It's nothing scandalous, although sometimes you find yourself wishing it could be. You tell yourselves it's just breakfast; that an hour of friendly conversation before she goes back to her sometimes-empty life is all it'll ever be. You know you're lying to yourselves, and you hope every morning that she'll linger just a little bit longer.

Flirting, meaningful looks, and loaded questions make up your relationship. You know it's all lies, and that nothing will come of such a tumultuous beginning. But it's better than nothing, and she's not turning away from your burning stares anymore.

It's another morning after work, and you're eating another crappy breakfast and pretending not to care that she's just _so close_ and you know you can't ever have her.

"Warrick?"

Catherine's caught you daydreaming again, and you know she thinks you're crazy, because you've been doing this a lot lately.

"Sorry." You wish you could vocalize this feeling of being on the verge of _something_, but you know she just needs a friend. You won't ruin that. Eddie's gone, Grissom is Grissom, and Catherine can't stand all alone forever. So you're here, and you find that you don't mind being the good guy. Besides, playing pretend with her each morning is better than having nothing at all.

"Whatcha thinking about?" She tilts her head and narrows her eyes, and you know you can't get away with a flippant remark for an answer.

"You." You try to make this a joke by throwing a grin her way, and for a moment it almost seems like you've fooled her. But she's Catherine, and she was never one to take your bullshit.

Her eyes turn serious, and you know she's trying to decide how best to break your heart.

"Cath." You speak softly, hoping to convey in that one syllable that she doesn't have to talk about it, that you understand. She's not over Ed, and you really don't expect her to be. No matter how angry he made her, he was Lindsey's father, and now he's gone. She has an entire past to put to rest, and you of all people aren't going to judge her for it.

"I just…can't. Not now. God Warrick, that's such a line. I'm sorry." She's torturing herself, and you feel horrible. You cover her hand with yours in a way that's meant to be comforting, but you can tell by the flash of her eyes that it's more than that.

"It's fine. We're fine." She looks relieved, if not totally convinced, and you each pay your share and leave the diner that you've come to think of as your own.

It drives you both insane, how you never seem to be able to carry a conversation when it matters most, but you've each accepted that you'll always be a little bit dysfunctional that way, and you just avoid talks like this whenever you can. The words you've each left unsaid seem to hang heavily in the air, but you think they'd be even heavier is you actually said them out loud. You've always been a gambler, but you think as you look at her that you've finally found the thing you're not willing to place a bet on.

"Tell Lindsey hi for me," You say this every morning, mostly to remind her that she has something worth going home to. You've always communicated like this; you say one thing and mean another. It's a miracle you even understand each other.

She nods and smiles slyly. "Give my regards to your latest girl." She tosses her hair like a challenge. She says this every day, even though she knows by now that you're not like that.

You roll your eyes and give her shoulder a light squeeze. You've been doing this a lot lately; touching her. You won't pretend it's for her benefit, but you do notice the goose bumps that appear on her skin when you pull away.

She gets in her car, honks her horn, waves, and she's gone again. You get in your car and drive home, ready for sleep and a few dreams of her.

Lately, your days aren't yours at all, but you've considered the alternatives, and you've figured out that you don't mind it so much when you have someone like Catherine Willows to share them with.


End file.
